


89. “You’re holding back.”

by KittenKin



Series: Drabble Prompt Fills [25]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Couch Sex, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, John "Three Continents" Watson, John Watson Talks Dirty, M/M, Virgin Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:41:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22809571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittenKin/pseuds/KittenKin
Summary: Content Warning: mention of boy parts and the mutually satisfying touching thereof. The author is coy about it, but John Watson has a deliciously filthy mouth.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Drabble Prompt Fills [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605655
Comments: 6
Kudos: 180





	89. “You’re holding back.”

John propped himself up a bit and blinked down at Sherlock, too contented to feel much more than curious and fondly amused. He probably had a right sappy smile on his face, in fact, which might be part of the reason Sherlock was looking as haughtily disgruntled as he could while sprawled out on the couch, hair an absolute wreck and his shirt rather more unbuttoned than usual.

“Er…and what are you basing this deduction on?” John asked, before he could get too lost in admiring how deliciously mussed up Sherlock was.

“The DVD credits have been looping for half an hour now. John, you’ve had _dinner dates_ that didn’t take this long before you were shagging your flavor of the week silly.”

“Oi.”

“Inexperienced doesn’t mean unwilling or _a delicate blossom_ or whatever nonsense that’s causing you to hesitate,” Sherlock continued huffily. He looked as though he wanted to put his hands on his hips, but John still had him pretty well pinned to the cushions. “There’s an eighty-two percent chance that you’ll ogle my arse whenever I stand still for more than four seconds in your line of sight–”

“You mean I’ve missed opportunities? Damn.”

“–and you’ve already asked for and received my enthusiastic consent multiple times. It is absolutely ridiculous that I am still, at this moment, a virgin.”

John’s other eyebrow went up.

“Sherlock I swear to God if you’ve deleted all the times we’ve had sex–”

“What? Of course not! I can’t even delete the stupid face you make in the mirror after you’ve brushed your teeth!”

There was a stare-off at this, lasting only until Sherlock blushed and turned his head away. John gave him a noisy kiss on the cheek.

“You’re adorable.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you have some strange ideas about what constitutes sex, I think,” John mused. “How many orgasms have we had in each others’ company?”

“Thirty-eight for me, thirty-two for you,” Sherlock replied promptly, and preened just a little bit over the way John took it as natural and right that his partner would keep exact track of such a thing and smiled fondly down at him. And maybe a little smugly, too. It hadn’t been that long since they’d first kissed, after all.

“And you still consider yourself a virgin because…?”

“Don’t play obtuse, John,” Sherlock scolded, trying to avoid having to spell it out. Wanting something and asking for it outright were two very, very different things.

“There _has_ been plenty of penetration, technically speaking,” John pointed out. “Digital, oral, and a combination of the two. But it seems you’ve got some notion knocking about in your mind palace that you won’t have had ‘real sex’ until one of us has had their cock up the other’s arse?”

“Charmingly put,” Sherlock drawled, but John just… _wriggled_ …in a way that made it obvious that he could feel the more honest reaction Sherlock’s body was having to the words.

“What’s the rush, hm?” Shoulders protesting a bit, John settled himself all the way down again and wormed his way up a friction-filled inch so that he could nibble at one plump earlobe. “I’m having fun checking off all sorts of boxes, y’know.”

He could almost feel Sherlock’s curiosity and interest engage, and he hid a grin in the curve of that frankly ridiculous neck.

“Besides, whenever it is that we get around to _that_ , I think I’ll be inclined to take my time, even then. Do _this_ while I slowly peel you out of whatever you’ve wrapped yourself in that day.” He interspersed hard sucks and light nips and more nibbling kisses among his rumbled musings, delighting in the shivers and quick breaths and the way Sherlock’s hands were repeatedly flexing against his sides.

“Definitely going to want to revisit all the penetrative acts we’ve engaged in already,” John continued. “Need to keep my hand in, so to speak, if I’m to keep you satisfied, lovely. Ooh, and speaking of oral, there’s other things we haven’t gotten ‘round to yet either.”

He stiffened his tongue and drew a probing line with it along every bit of Sherlock’s sternocleidomastoid muscle that he could get at, and ended with a pointed jab at the soft underside of a clenched jaw. This got him a soft “ _oh!_ ” and a fully body squirm that ended with Sherlock fairly ripping a hole into his shirt, and those long legs locked around his hips.

It seemed that Sherlock was open to the concept of rimming.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured, nuzzling at the damp trail he’d left. “Sometimes I feel like I’m never _not_ starving for the next taste of you. You’ll have me absolutely desperate, but I’ll also want to savor it. This. You.”

He shifted down a bit, wanting to investigate some collarbones, but in the next moment was surging up again, circling his hips and trying to drag another startled, breathless moan out of his lover.

“Yeah,” John agreed, trying to recall what he’d been talking about.

Ah, yes.

“Can’t wait for it, but once I’m there, once I’m pushing at you _right there_ , God, Sherlock, I’ll want to stay there forever. You’ve no idea, love; how hot and slick and tight and _fuck_ –”

They lost a few beats, breaths, lifetimes in a slow, steady rutting on John’s part and Sherlock clawing at him, arching off the cushions as much as he could in the nonexistent space between them. Deep grunts and a desperate, high-pitched whine.

“That first press in, it’s fucking amazing. Pushing, pushing, pushing, and then finally you’ll relax and I’ll just–” John growled into Sherlock’s skin and rolled his hips hard, loving the almost-pain of doing this in denims, loving how breathless, speechless, _mindless_ he’d made his genius. “And I’ll stay there for as long as I can, just the tip holding you open, keeping you waiting, wanting. Back and forth, just a tiny bit, just a few millimeters, just to keep feeling that first slide in.”

“Imagine it, Sherlock,” he commanded, rasping the words against the other man’s throat. “Just the very tip of my cock stretching you, keeping you ready for the rest of me to drive right in. Think you’ll still feel like a virgin then?”

Sherlock keened and writhed and then shuddered hard, practically convulsing under him, all his limbs clawing and curling tight. It was what John had been aiming for and somehow it still caught him by surprise and pulled him under, over the edge, pulled him entirely apart, too. It was like a natural disaster and a wonder of the world; it would always be new and beautiful and shocking and awe-inspiring.

It took a few minutes for John to get enough breath back to get his manners back online, and to realize that he ought to roll off his increasingly breathless boyfriend. Sherlock seemed content enough for the moment, however, one hand idly tracing some complex formula along John’s tricep.

“Dry humping, check,” John quipped, and then rolled off and away laughing as Sherlock began smacking at him.


End file.
